Warcraft Kings and Queens

**Kings and Queens**

"You need a wife, Arthas."

"Wife? Or queen?"

"You can't have one without the other."

"Well, considering your queen is about to become one with the Light soon, I don't think you're in a position to lecture me about female monarchs."

Calia remained silent. Maybe it was because of his jibe, maybe it was because she realized that her queen was about to fall victim to one of her brother's chess pieces if she didn't play her hand correctly. Arthas didn't particularly care either way. He'd come to the capital to report to his father on the going-ons in Zul'Aman and, Light willing, take some time to savour his home before heading back out into the field. This included seeing his sister. This included playing chess with her.

"And my queen's out of danger," Calia said, moving it across the board to a position where it threatened both a rook and a pawn. She looked up at Arthas. "Shame you have nothing to counter it with."

Arthas remained silent. He'd lost his queen earlier in the game. Lost her as she bought time for her king to get to safety.

"Your move, Brother," Calia said. "Hurry up."

Scowling, Arthas moved his rook. Smiling, Calia took his pawn.

"Check."

"What?"

"Check," Calia repeated. "Your king. The queen's closing in."

"…oh, damn you."

Arthas lay back in his chair, taking a sip of the raspberry juice beside him. It was a bit sweet for his tastes, but this summer had been particularly warm, and while he and his sister were in the cool interior of the Imperial Palace, it still felt like a furnace.

"Your move, Arthas."

"I'll move when I want to," answered the prince between sips.

"Fine. Then I'll talk."

Arthas rolled his eyes but set down the flask anyway. Gesturing to a servant, more juice began to fill up.

"Arthas," the princess of Lordaeron began. "I know it isn't my place, but-"

"Then keep to your place."

"_But_," Calia repeated. "I have to say something. You, ending your romance with Lady Proudmoore…"

"For duty, Sister."

"Duty," Calia murmured. "Arthas, your duty is to Lordaeron. And before you say anything, yes, that duty includes protecting your people from trolls, orcs, bandits, whatever."

"I'm quite good at it too," the younger Menethil said, returning his attention to the chessboard and moving his king. "As you'll find out."

"I'm sure," Calia said, moving her queen across the board as well. "But part of your duties require ensuring that our line continues. That means marriage. That means little princes and princesses. And ideally, that means doing something before father passes from this world."

Arthas moved his rook up. Calia moved a pawn.

"The people understand politics better than you do, Brother. Love, power, they just want reassurance."

"Politics," Arthas murmured. "Reassurance." He moved up a knight. "I don't ask much of my people, Calia. I'm a knight of the Silver Hand. I'm-"

A bishop took out his knight.

"A knight indeed," Calia said.

Arthas cursed. Bells chimed out in the city. Two o'clock.

"Your move, Brother," the princess said.

Arthas lay back in his chair. He reached for his flask, but thought better of it. Once he was out in the field, all he'd have to rely on in the heat was water. Best not to get too soft. Not out there, not in here. Not with Calia pressing the attack.

"You know, I'd have thought you of all people would have let me choose love at my own pace," Arthas said, moving his rook across the board. "After you and Prestor…well, you remember."

"I do," Calia said, flushing slightly. "I also remember you saying that perhaps it was better father chose for me than stumbling around blind."

Arthas grimaced. He had indeed.

"Which is what you seem to be doing," the princess said, bypassing the rook with her queen and threatening the king. "Check."

Arthas moved the king. "Well, maybe you haven't forgotten the underlying issue," he said. "Princesses are sold off. Stromgarde, Gilneas…maybe you fear being sent away, dear sister. Maybe you want me to play the political game so you don't have to."

"And maybe you're saying this so that _you _don't have to," Calia said, moving her bishop to threaten the king. Again. "Check."

Arthas moved his king. "Believe what you want. I'll do what I want, and you're in no position to stop me."

"Indeed you will," Calia said, moving her queen. "Checkmate."

Arthas opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it. Then closed it again.

"See Brother?" Calia asked, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of the elvish brandy beside her. "You need a queen. Protects the king, keeps you out of trouble, and at the end of the game…well, let's just say that if all goes well, you'll have an army of pawns."

Arthas leant back in his own chair. He wanted to argue. Wanted to point out that he was still his own man. That fighting in the field was much different than playing at chess. That he was a paladin, and was well within his rights to take a vow of celibacy if he damn well wanted. But it was hot, he was tired, and had been taught how to pick his battles.

"Another game?" Calia asked.

"Fine."

That didn't mean he always chose correctly.


End file.

Warcraft, Family, Fantasy